


Washout

by clearlyneedsjesus



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Fucking Machines, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Machines, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Smut, Tony Stark's Gloriously Debauched Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearlyneedsjesus/pseuds/clearlyneedsjesus
Summary: After another heated argument with Tony, Steve returns home for a shower only to find his favourite genius has made some rather interesting updates to his shower...Or, Steve gets forcefully fucked by his shower system and is made to love it.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 220





	Washout

Steve should have expected retribution.

He also should have expected it to come in such a pettily helpful way. Tony was nothing if not a futurist (or a kind-hearted asshole – depending on who you asked). He had always been as likely to help Steve feel at home in the twenty-first century as he was to mock him for his ignorance. And since the two of them were now entering their second day of not speaking to each other since their latest meltdown, Steve felt the mockery and vindictiveness were well past due. Once he’d had the chance to think about it, he was surprised it hadn’t come sooner.

He really wished Tony would have just let him have a shower though.

“Jarvis?” he asked plaintively. “ _Why_ did Tony feel the need to upgrade my bathroom? I’m fairly sure it worked fine before.”

“My apologies, Mr Rogers, but I’m afraid once Sir gets an idea into his head, he cannot get it out again.” Jarvis’ disembodied voice certainly sounded sincere in its regret. “As you are no doubt well aware.”

Steve sighed. He was aware. “Could you at least let me out?” If he couldn’t figure out how to work the shower anymore, he’d rather not be trapped in it.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir.” The metal doors remained shut. That should have been Steve’s second warning sign (after Tony’s love of retribution). “If you’ll just follow along with my instructions, I will direct you how to use the modifications Sir has set up. Please place your feet into the grooves marked on the floor…”

Steve sighed again. He _was_ dirty – after that last battle cleaning up Reed’s latest disaster-turned-apocalyptic-army-trying-to-take-over-the-city he was well and truly in need of a wash – and more than that, he was tired. He could have tumbled straight into bed, but without the relaxation and chance to destress under the hot steam, his churning thoughts would likely keep him up for hours. Though the serum may have upgraded the flesh, his mind often failed him where his body did not. He glanced down. There were indeed two grooves in the middle of his previously mundane shower. When he placed his feet in them, he found them perfectly shaped to the soles of his feet. He scoffed. Tony was nothing if not attentive to detail.

“Now if you would raise your hands and place them against the grooves in front of you,” Jarvis asked.

When Steve looked up, he found two hand imprints on the wall in front of his face. He hesitated. “Why exactly is this necessary for a simple shower?”

“I do not confess to understand the workings of Sir’s brain, I’m afraid, but there’s usually nothing ‘simple’ about it.”

Steve hummed his agreement. He put his hands into the grooves of the shower wall; almost immediately, two things happened. The grooves closed over his hands and feet so that they were fully enclosed in the metal, and the interior of the shower began to move. Steve’s feet, which had been at a comfortable standing position, where dragged wider apart, until there was just a slight discomfort of his hips, and his hands were pulled higher up the wall to keep him taught. _Not metal at all_ , he thought, as he struggled. The fact that the material was able to move hinted at nano or synthetic make, but it was the strength worried him even more-so. He couldn’t move his limbs at all, beyond some light resistance. The wall and floor had consumed him up to his wrists and ankles.

“Jarvis?” he asked tersely.

“Please try to relax, Mr Rogers, and enjoy the shower module Sir has lined up for you.”

Steve struggled against his bonds. He didn’t intend on relaxing one bit. Whatever Tony had planned, he doubted it was going to be good for him.

“ _Initiating shower sequence, part one._ ”

There was a soft click, and a second later Steve flinched as the water flicked on. It wasn’t as hot as Steve would usually like it, but a part of him was just glad Tony hadn’t eschewed such a traditional shower staple with something more exciting, like disintegrating soap bubbles. It was also odd not having his hands free to direct the stream of water, but the showerhead was tilted so as not to get into his eyes. He just had to trust the sequence and hopefully he’d survive without losing an eyeball. A moment later there was a squirting noise and Steve’s scalp was hit with a load of shampoo. Two claws emerged from the sides of the shower, advancing on Steve in his peripheral vision. He eyed them warily, but they didn’t decapitate him – as he was half worried they would. He was only treated to the odd sensation of shampoo being rubbed into his scalp by little robotic arms. The shampoo was washed out, the process repeated with conditioner, and Steve was just starting to think this might not be so bad when he heard,

_“Initiating shower sequence, part two._ ”

Steve immediately tensed up, and with good reason. Not a second later he was assaulted with liquid gel. A multitude of claws emerged from the walls, this time sporting soft loofah-like attachments to rub the gel over every inch of his body. His arms were already pulled up, so his armpits were easily accessible, but Steve was more hesitant about what was happening in his neither regions. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be amenable to a robot getting up close and personal with his pubic hair, no matter how delicately it handled things in the name of hygiene. The gel was quickly washed away by localised jets of water, and the loofah-claws replaced by claws with rounded edges. He wasn’t sure what their purpose was until they started digging into him, kneading the tense flesh of his back, his shoulders, his neck. He allowed a grunt of pleasure as one worked out a knot in his thigh where he’d been hit by a doom-bot earlier in the week. _Well, massage-therapy might be allowable as an upgrade,_ Steve thought, even though he preferred the original better.

“ _Initiating shower sequence, part three_.”

He wondered what came next. Exfoliation? Blow-dry and moisturisation? For someone who spent ninety percent of his time greasy and arms-deep in machine parts, Tony had some pretty complicated ideas about skin routine. Steve always figured that was why Tony looked as swell as he did, even though he liked to lament how he was getting on in years. (It was either that, or the Italian in him). Not that Steve paid much mind. He was sure still an attractive fella. Even when the two of them weren’t busy screaming at each other he found it hard to look away.

The jetstream shut off, and another bar emerged from the shower wall at hip height. It snapped into place on the other side of the wall, nice and secure, and then Steve’s hands were being dragged down the wall until he was bent over it, the bar resting just at his lower abdomen. It was flattened where he was braced against it, to make it more comfortable to lean on, but Steve wasn’t sure what on earth he’d need to be bent over for. His question was answered a second later when there was another slick squirting noise and Steve flinched at the feel of liquid against his asshole.

“Wha-?”

The oil ran down his crack and dripped liberally from his thighs and his growing sense of alarm was only added by the arrival of a thick, blunt presence prodding at his hole. Steve struggled, really throwing his weight into his bonds, but they didn’t move. _How long had Tony been working on ways to incapacitate him?_ he wondered.

“Jarvis!” he cried. 

There was no answer. The dildo – and it was undoubtedly a dildo, Steve knew that much, no matter how naive Tony liked to paint him as – grazed his rim for a few moments, applying enough pressure to loosen the muscle and spread the oil onto its head. Then, there was an increase in pressure and the head popped inside. Steve gasped at the intrusion. Its head was undoubtedly metallic, but lightly warmed, and it stayed where it was just inside the ring of muscle. Steve tried to twist so he could catch sight of it over his shoulder but was unable to from his bent over position. Then there was a squirt, and he felt his inner walls splashed with more slick fluid. His automatic reaction was to bring his legs together, but he was spread wide and helpless. He shivered. He really was helpless here. How far was Tony planning on taking this? It was a sick joke if that’s what it was. He wasn’t sure where the humour was in bending over your teammate and violating them with-

“Ah!” he cried out as the head began to press in, slowly at first, lubricating the walls of his ass as it went, but building up speed. It paused when it was fully seated inside of him, then slowly pulled out, and punched in again with short, devastating bursts. It kept up the rhythm, slow drag out, quick jab in. It was like a punch to the gut, and Steve found himself winded by every stroke. Not because it hurt – the pressure and size were probably reasonably kind for someone who had never experienced anal penetration before, and he was indeed well-lubricated – but because he had _never had something in his ass before._ It was a foreign feeling. The pressure, the weight of it, the unrelenting drag. It had Steve drawing in shaky breaths and hissing them out between his teeth. He wondered if Tony was somewhere in the tower watching this, enjoying this. Who knew? Maybe even playing with himself. The image came to him unbidden of Tony seated at a desk, his feet casually propped up next to the monitor as he lazily pumped his cock, his plump lips forming a delicate leer. He shouldn’t have thought of it. Not while he was bent over and merciless at the hands of the man in his little fantasy. The image sent a shiver of heat through his lower gut and reminded him of the other factor involved in this debacle.

Though his dick had remained limp through the initial penetration, it was slowly plumping up and getting with the program as the dildo pumped in and out of him with delicious friction. He stared at his erection with a faint sense of betrayal. He hoped it would have had better sense to show up for this event. And yet there it was. Captain America Junior. There was a faint whirring noise and he flinched with alarm as another claw protruded from the ground right between his legs. He struggled, but it clamped around his dick, forming a tight tunnel that filled him with an uneasy sense of pleasure.

“Ohhh,” he let out a shaky breath.

The cock-sleeve began to pump him in slow steady strokes in time with the dildo. Whenever he was pumped full, the sleeve was at its tightest, when the dildo withdrew so did the sleeve. He found himself mourning their loss, drawing automatic associations between the pleasure of one to the other. In fact, the pleasure was so distracting he didn’t notice at first that the dildo was beginning to pick up speed. But he certainly noticed when it changed positions. The change in angle made it hit against something – that bundle of nerves he’d heard queer men talk about back in the day – and it lit up his lower back with a lightning bolt of pleasure. Steve threw his head back and moaned.

He wasn’t sure if the machine did have settings specifically for this – though he had to question how even the Great Tony would be able to figure out the exact location of his prostrate – or if Tony really was somewhere watching him and adjusting his tech as necessary, because once the machine found that spot, it went at it like there was no tomorrow. The dildo fucked into him with brutal force, every stroke hitting that bundle of nerves and driving him dizzy with pleasure. He was gasping, moaning, shaking, sweating when at last he cried out and came. The cock sleeve slowed, drawing it out, before falling dormant. Steve hung his head, panting with the force of his pleasure. This might be the most humiliating event of his life, but it was also the best orgasm he’d ever had.

He might even thank Tony now that this was over –

The machine lurched, his arms being drawn behind him and up, directly above his head and locked into a single restraint. Two thick claws clamped around his waist at the same time as his legs were drawn up away from the floor entirely, the clamps supporting his weight as he was spread as wide as wide could go. He spat out a series of curses. Nope. He was still going to kill Tony.

He tested this new position, but the awkward angle of arms kept him motionless. He huffed.

“Jarvis?”

But why Tony’s AI would help him now when it hadn’t before was a moot point. His only response was a gentle, “Please relax and enjoy yourself.”

“That’s a bit hard-” he lurched against his bonds, wincing when it twinged his shoulder “-when I’m in a hard situation.”

He could have giggled. _Hard_ situation. He wasn’t sure if that was the post-orgasmic haze or the desperation talking. It didn’t matter. The dildo had started moving again.

“Seriously?”

The cock sleeve remained inert – which was good for his poor limp cock, which needed a break – but a set of warm, vibrating balls folded up from the floor to rub the underside of his ball sack. The velvety feel of them against his skin was indecent. He bit his lip on a hearty groan, his eyelids fluttering shut. Worse still, the dildo started thickening. It had started out relatively thin, but now it plumped out until Steve wasn’t sure he could take it. He was gasping, fighting against the intrusion when the clamps around his waist started lifting him up and down, counter-thrusting him to the movement of the dildo. The effect of both of them working in tandem was enough to make him really cry out.

“Tony!” he cried. “If you’re watching this, please – that’s enough! I-”

Another wave of pleasure rolled over him as the cock sleeve started up again. He hadn’t even noticed he was half hard again.

“Tony, I-” the cock was ridiculously wide now. He’d never felt so small and so _full_ , the girth of him filling him like nothing else. “Please! Please Tony, _please!_ ”

He wasn’t sure anymore if he was asking him to stop or keep going. He was only dimly aware that he was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks as he was jerked up and down like a ragdoll, the smooth glide of the dildo in and out of his ass like a battering ram against his remaining defences. The pleasure was nearly overwhelming. The brutal sensation of the metal cock up his ass, the unceasing vibration on his balls, the delicious squeeze of the sleeve around his cock. He imagined what Tony would think, seeing him spread and helpless like this. Would he think he’d done a good job? Would he think how he could do better next time? Always looking to the future, Tony was. He hoped Tony was watching. God-

A rod stretched up to press against his perineum and he came. Hard. “ _Tony!_ ” he roared.

Apparently, that was it for this round. His feet were slowly brought back to the ground and he was returned to a standard standing position, the clamps remaining around his waist even as the rest of the devices retreated – probably to give him a chance to get his balance back. It was a good thing too because his legs felt shaky as a new-born foal. He shuddered at the sensation of the dildo drawing out of him, idly wondering how big it had been. Then the clamps retreated, his hands and feet were released from the machine, and a side panel in the shower opened to reveal mundane shower essentials; soap, shampoo etc. He eyed them with a weary sort of relief. At least they’d shown up eventually.

“Mr Stark would like to inform you that the sequence is now complete.” He wondered if it was possible for AIs to feel embarrassed on behalf of their lecherous bosses, or whether complacency in such lechery was hard-wired into Jarvis’ genetic code. “You are free to use the washroom as you will to clean yourself up. The doors will open whenever you are ready.”

Steve gave a shaky nod, and spent a short time washing himself down and – cleaning himself out. It was an alien experience, but after the abuse it had suffered, he found his asshole was gaping slightly. He imagined it would go back to normal soon, but he couldn’t help but prod at the winking flesh. He shivered at the sensation.

Stepping out of the shower he towelled himself off and wrapped himself in a thick fluffy towel, he decided he was ready to go to bed and leave processing this confusing experience to the morning. No sooner had he entered his room however, than he heard a ping. He frowned, walking over to his phone. It was a message from Tony with an image attached. An image of Steve biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. _New profile pic for the team chat?_ Tony’s message read.

Steve squeezed his fists shut in anger. He brought up the screen to call Tony’s number but he needn’t have bothered. Tony phoned him first. He blushed full the way down his chest at the ringtone – he couldn’t remember what he’d set Tony’s caller jingle to before, but it _definitely_ hadn’t been the breathy sounds of him crying _‘Tony! Tony! Please!’_ God he hoped he could get Tony to delete that. He stabbed the accept button and grunted out, “Hello?”

“Well you don’t sound very happy to hear from me,” Tony teased. “Most men would be sounding more pleased with themselves after experiencing two orgasms in that stretch of time.”

“You sound pleased enough for the both of us,” Steve growled. “Was that really necessary?”

“I think so.” Tony’s voice took on a bite. “I was just throwing your argument back at you. ‘Self-care’, isn’t that what you spent so long lecturing me about? Well Cap? Do you feel better after indulging in some self-loving?”

Steve grit his teeth, holding his towel in one hand lest it fall down. Not that it mattered anymore if Tony did have cameras in this room. He’d evidently seen everything already. “That conversation was about you learning to take care of yourself. I.e. _not_ throw yourself in front of falling buildings to save the day.”

“I do exactly the same things you do-” Tony snapped.

“I don’t want to repeat this argument again,” Steve said. “But my body can take that. Yours _can’t_.”

There was a pause, and when Tony spoke again there was a leer in his voice. “It can certainly take something.”

Steve groaned. “I suppose I left that one why open for you.”

“I think you left more than one wide open for me. So go on Steve, tell me, any feedback? Yay? Nay? Maybe a discussion of your consumer feedback over drinks in my penthouse?”

Unless Steve was otherwise mistaken, that was the sound of flirtation – and…hesitation? Nervousness? – in Tony’s voice. Sure, he’d just remotely fucked Steve six ways to Sunday but that could be construed as mockery – cruelty – even though a little part of Steve’s brain reminded him unhelpfully that Tony was barely ever cruel. But real interest…that was a notion that Steve, with all his lingering glances and idle fantasies, hadn’t dared to entertain.

Steve softened his grip on the phone and allowed his face to stretch into an answering smile. “I suppose I could recommend some improvements…”


End file.
